The Lady of the Sea Read Online Free PDF Page A

frank, open look of his boyhood, though the strong planes and angles of his face had deepened with experience and time. His fair hair sprang up from his broad forehead as thickly as it always had, and the blue of his eyes still made her catch her breath. Best of all, he never noticed how heads turned for him, male and female alike. He might have been born to put other men to shame.
    And seen against Mark, who had height but not strength and royalty without a trace of dignity, who was cursed with a long, ill-made body with a muddy face and thin, graying, sandy hair—a knight who had no prowess with sword or spear and not a thought in his head of chivalry . . .
    Was it any wonder that Mark felt belittled when Tristan was near?
    Mark.
    My husband, Mark.
    Isolde struggled to collect her wayward thoughts. Tristan, too, was floundering, she could see.
    “We have always tried to respect and honor him,” he said in a low voice. “So why do we have to leave now? Is there anything new?”
    “Yes, indeed.” She could not keep the bitterness from her voice. “The Christians are increasing their power every day. They have sworn to overthrow the Goddess, and Mark does not care. That priest of his, Dominian, feeds his vanity to gain control, and Mark builds them churches to buy absolution from his sins.”
    Tristan shifted uneasily. “His sins—?”
    “Gods above, Tristan, how long has he flaunted his mistress in my face? And what’s that snake-like Elva but a sin?” Suddenly she could bear it no more. “Look at him, Tristan. He’s a wretched apology for a man and for a king. He’s—”
    “He’s my kinsman, lady,” Tristan broke in, his face alive with pain. “I beg you, remember that.”
    What?
Isolde stared at him. His look of reproach cut her to the quick. She opened her mouth for an angry retort, then the sound she had heard before came once again, falling through the air like the evening dew.
    Never more.
    It is time to choose.
    She came toward Tristan and took his hand. “I must not go back to Mark or to Castle Dore,” she said intently, her voice very low. “I cannot sustain this marriage any longer.”
    Tristan started in alarm. “What?”
    Isolde held her breath. Suddenly the way ahead was clear. “I shall go back to Ireland. My country needs me. I should not be here.”
    Tristan felt a hollow sickness invade his heart. “But Cornwall—”
    “—must do without me,” she said implacably.
    Never had he seen her look so cold. He struggled to understand. “But—”
    “I married Mark to keep Ireland safe. The danger’s been over now for twenty years. There’s no reason for me to remain as Cornwall’s Queen.” She looked away. “Still less as Mark’s wife, when I’ve never gone to his bed.”
    He flushed and looked away. “I know.”
    She forced him to meet her eye. “Come with me to Ireland. We’ll forget Mark and Cornwall and join our lives together in my own land.”
    He stared at her. “But lady, he’s my kinsman—my only kin. And I swore a lifelong allegiance to him.”
    She held his gaze and willed him to be strong. “Set Mark aside, if you can. There’s something else that dearly concerns us both.”
    He was quite lost; she could see it.
    “What else?” he said in misery, running a hand distractedly through his hair.
    Goddess, help me . . .
She drew a long, slow breath. “If I’m ever to have a child, it must be soon.”
    “Have a child?” he gasped. “But we’ve always kept our love concealed.”
    “So I took the way of the Mother to close up my womb.” She nodded grimly. “But in my own kingdom, I can do as I like. And when I’m free to follow the Mother-right, that means I can change my consort and bear his child.” She paused and clenched her fists. “Your child, Tristan, if it’s not too late.”
    “My child?” He could not take it in. But he could see the tempest raging in her soul. Queen or woman, what am I to be? Wife, lover, and mother, or never in this